But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. The panel in the bookcase.
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